


Beneath A Moonless Sky

by a_seaof_wonders



Series: Just Hold Still [3]
Category: Onward (2020)
Genre: Anxiety, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_seaof_wonders/pseuds/a_seaof_wonders
Summary: Barley finds himself unable to turn down Iandore’s affections
Relationships: Barley Lightfoot/Ian Lightfoot
Series: Just Hold Still [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905238
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	Beneath A Moonless Sky

**Author's Note:**

> ....
> 
> So, I know I should put this to rest like, we just did 46 chapters BUT jokes on you for thinking I was finished.
> 
> Anywho, we’re delving into this a little more 
> 
> Please feel free to comment and as always,
> 
> Enjoy :)

A breath of humid southern wind seeped through the open windows of an old pickup, grazing across heated elven flesh as it made its pass. The crash of waves hitting against solid rock below and the minute whimpers escaping the lithe throat of the mage straddled across Barley’s lap served as the only sounds breaking the silence of a quiet summer’s eve.

The cliffs were becoming a common spot for the two to find themselves. Summer’s grueling heat called for these quiet moments by the sea. The occasional ocean breeze a sweet relief to the palpitating pulse of late July and under the cloak of night, the Lightfoot brother’s could enjoy it a bit more intimately.

It was something that had started slow. Barley had merely parked along the edge of the cliffs, close enough to hear the rolling waves while keeping a safe distance. Not a single star glimmered above them, even the ghastly glow of their planet’s lunar companions was missing from the sky. However, Barley could still make out the svelte form of his brother’s silhouette and his eyes were adjusted enough to trace the outlines of his juniors' features.

Doll eyes had studied the older man just as intently, the plump pout of the young wizard’s bottom lip sucked between his teeth while delicate hands clenched the seat beneath him. 

“You look like you’re waiting for something,” Barley had mused. It was then that Ian had moved, quickly but not rushed. Like he’d practiced the movement over and over in his head. A soft hand curling into the fabric of Barley’s shirt, eyes falling closed and lips pursing to meet with his older brother’s. It had been so smooth that Barley hadn’t even realized they were kissing until he was gently parting his lips to mold them together more comfortably.

They hadn’t kissed in a month, and the feel of Ian’s petal soft lips against the rugged skin of his own, pressing firmly into the newfound jewelry of Barley’s septum and igniting a long forgotten flame within the bulky elf had heat blossoming in the older Lightfoot’s chest. A large hand lifting to tangle into cobalt curls as their affections had deepened.

The quester had taken a moment to pull away, lustrous aurum eyes finding the hooded gaze of his younger sibling with a jovial glint as he offered a lopsided smile.

“Something tells me you had ulterior motives dragging us out here,” he’d teased, but it would seem Ian was in no mood for games. There was a hunger behind his eyes, face remaining stoic as he’d peered at the older man through his lashes. With a spindly hand on Barley’s chest, he pushed the stocky elf to sit against the backrest of his seat, following him closely.

“Shut up and kiss me,” the mage had breathed, pressing their lips together once more before Barley had caved, pulling the younger man into his lap and melting into his affections.

The older Lightfoot hadn’t meant for things to get so heated, but Ian had moved against him so feverishly that they’d gotten a little carried away. With the southern gale gliding off the ocean’s waves, the humid air hung heavy around them, fueling the fire that was burning beneath pastel skin.

“Barley~” Ian breathed, the small form of his darkened silhouette hardly visibly in the absence of light. The elf in question merely placed another wet kiss to the length of his brother’s neck, steady hands traveling up the soft poly cotton of the svelte wizard’s V neck and gliding across the toned planes of his abdomen. Boney hips grind down in return, spidery fingers gripping boulderous shoulders to find a sense of grounding as fire coils within the smaller man’s groin.

“Shh,” Barley hushed against the damp skin between the junction of Ian’s jaw, “I know, baby, I missed you too,” Ian all but melts against him, another whine leaving his throat before he moves his hips once more.

Calloused palms slide across heated skin, burly arms wrapping around a frail waist to pull the conjurer closer before Ian slots their mouths together once more. The tip of his tongue parting the roughened lips of his elder to trace the rooth of his mouth. Barley can’t help the hum that vibrates through his chest, hugging the mage against him as he revels in his brother’s ministrations. 

Despite being the one to insist that they halt their romantic relationship, Barley had been aching for his brother’s touch. However, there’s a fine line between “want,” and “need,” that he’s had to find and remind himself of when it came to the younger Lightfoot. What he’s done to Ian has been out of selfish want, a power trip he’d lost himself to countless times on account of losing that part of himself when he was little. 

But, he can see that Ian still needs this. The young mage hadn’t been ready to let go and in truth, neither was Barley.

With slowing lips, Barley eased out of the kiss, pressing a few more pecks around the younger Lightfoot’s mouth before pulling back. The thick blanket of darkness encasing them made it difficult to see, but Barley still looked fondly at the willowy mage with a soft smile.

It’s met with the heated stare of Ian’s captivating doe eyes, slender hands sliding from the brawn of Barley’s shoulders to drag down the length of his chest. The older man hardly blinks before Ian’s leaning in, sealing his lips against the skin of Barley’s neck while his hands continue to delve lower.

“Woah- hey,” Barley jerks, halting the hands that start to work open the button of his cargo shorts. Ian presses into him further, lips sliding up to ghost the shell of his sibling’s ear, tongue tracing the studs placed there only weeks ago hotly as he cants his hips suggestively.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you wanna fuck me?” The younger Lightfoot whispers, the quiet timbre of his voice spreads goose flesh over Barley’s skin and his mouth falling open. 

“I-I just, um, I told you we didn’t have to do that anymore,” Barley stutters, his fists winding around his little brother’s fragile wrists and holding them still. It doesn’t seem to deter the mage as he tries once more to slide his fingers beneath Barley’s waistband. 

“But I want to,” Ian murmurs, placing a few more searing kisses to the larger man’s neck. Barley sighs, eyes falling shut as he tries to gather his thoughts. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want Ian, in fact, he’d love nothing more than to ravish the younger man against the wheel but it’s too soon. Springtide is still fresh in his memory like it’d happened yesterday. His struggle with control has brought Ian a great deal of pain in the past, and the boisterous questmaster couldn’t bear it if he’d allowed himself to repeat such behavior. 

“We don’t even have lube, Ian,” Barley counters, his pulse starting to thrum beneath his skin as anxiety tightens in his stomach. Images of bruised skin flashes behind his eyes with the memory of thick crimson running down a diamond cut jaw.

“Actually,” Ian says, eagerly moving to reach behind himself. There’s a familiar crinkle of foil that Barley can make out as the younger Lightfoot fishes in his back pocket, retrieving a small item that he holds up in front of the larger man’s face. It’s hard to make out in the thick void of darkness that the night envelopes them with, he can only assume it’s one of two things and he prays it’s the latter.

With a deep sigh, Barley takes the foil packet from Ian’s finger, squeezing the center of it to confirm that it was indeed lubrication and not just a single condom because there’s no way that’d be enough for preparation.

“Is that gonna be okay?” Ian asks timidly, sitting back on Barley’s thighs but leaning a bit forward so not to touch the steering wheel. The questmaster swallows, eyes darting to his brother’s face and searching what little of the elven sorcerer’s features that he can see. His gaze finds Ian’s gorgeous doll eyes, like pools of obsidian in the darkness.

He can vaguely remember those irises -deep earthy hues kissed with a scarlet tint- so frightened and glittering with a sheen of wetness as they stare pleadingly. 

With a sharp intake of breath, Barley shakes his head to himself, suddenly thankful for the darkness, “n-not here, okay?” The older Lightfoot stammers, moving to toss the tiny packet onto the dash, “it’s dark and I’d like at least to be able to see what I’m doing,” he offers, steadying his tone to try and sound more at ease.

He can feel Ian slump against him, disappointment evident in the tension that radiates from the younger Lightfoot.

“Well, then let's go home- mom’s gotta be asleep by now,” Ian tries, fisting his hands in the fabric of Barley’s roughened denim vest. 

“Ian...” Barley breathes, his chest tightening as he peers up at his baby brother. He knows this is a product of his own doing, and watching the aftermath of it is absolutely heartbreaking.

Ian needs him, but he can’t be there. Not right now, not when everything is still so fresh.

There’s a deep sigh that emits from the wizard’s throat, his body falling forward as he rests against Barley’s shoulder, his face pressed against the skin of the older man’s throat. Silence encases them for a moment, deafening in the elder brother’s pierced ears as he waits patiently for a reaction.

There isn’t one, just the feel of Ian’s body laying against him, and the heaviness that follows. A subtle crash of ocean waves below, the quiet rustle of trees and the hot pulse of humid summer air.

“Can we go get milkshakes?” Ian mumbled, voice erring on the side of disappointment. Barley sighs, shifting slightly to pull his phone out of his pocket.

“It’s nearly eleven,” he said, eyes scanning the lit screen of his cell. 

“There’s a 24-hour diner not too far from here, Sadalia and I go there all the time,” the younger Lightfoot quipped, words still muffled into Barley’s neck. The way the statement leaves his tongue suggests that he’s trying to get a rise out of the older man, knowing that the mention of his companion has bothered the exuberant Lightfoot in the past.

Such things don’t bother Barley anymore, he refuses to allow it, so he swallows down the bitter taste of resentment and instead nudges the smaller elf in his lap gently.

“Yeah? Well, lets go check it out then,” he chirps. Ian sighs heavily, moving with reluctance as he slides off of his brother. He’s quick to slide across the seat, settling into the passenger side and pulling on his seat belt without a word. 

Barley can make out just enough to see the irate expression upon the younger man’s face and his stringy arms crossed in disdain. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Barley huffs, sitting forward as he turned the key in the ignition. Ian doesn’t even look at him, he merely keeps his eyes trained on the open window beside him. 

“Don’t do what?” He grumbles. A loud hum emits from the engine, softening as the truck settles. 

Barley sits back, lips tightening as hazel eyes scan the pouting wizard. 

“Don’t sit there all miffed like that, okay? It’s not you,” the older Lightfoot assures, keeping a watchful gaze on his younger sibling. Ian just shakes his head, staring longingly outside as his arms relax a little. 

“Feels like it is,” Ian says, his voice tight with emotion but his words hadn’t wavered. Barley shifts, turning in his seat to face his little brother with an arm resting over the wheel. He studies the enchanter for a moment, lips tightening as he does so.

“Hey,” Barley whispers. Ian’s reluctant to respond, so Barley reaches forward to pop the younger man’s seat belt off with a determined huff.

“What’re you-“ Ian’s cut off by the larger elf pulling him forward, a fist caught in his light grey V neck. Eager lips connect once more as Barley presses into the petulant teen. It’s full of passion, a fervent need that blossoms between the two as Ian finds himself strewn across his brother's lap. Thick fingers tangle in unruly hair as teeth clack unceremoniously, lips slick with spit as they move against each other. 

When Barley breaks away there’s a wet string of saliva that keeps their lips connected, hooded eyes of darkened gold darting between the pleading irises of the younger Lightfoot.

“It’s not you,” Barley insists, “I want you, baby, Gods, do I want you,” he leans in for another hard kiss, fueling the fire that rages within Iandore, “but not right now, okay?” He says as he pulls away with sorrowful eyes.

Ian swallows loosely, reaching to cup his older brother’s face with an understanding gaze.

“Okay,” he says meekly, words hardly audible to Barley’s ears. The elder offers a soft smile, one that can hardly be seen through the piceous cabin of his truck. The soft pad of Ian’s thumb runs down his meaty cheek fondly and Barley can’t help the sensation of warmth that floods through his chest.

“I love you,” he says as a matter -of factly. Ian’s quiet for a moment, deepened pools of russet umber watching closely before he speaks quietly.

“I love you too,” he mumbles, voice carrying through the dark in a soft whisper that hardly graces the older elf’s ears.

With a genuine smile, Barley pushes the mage into the middle seat beside him, returning his attention to the running engine and grabbing hold of the gear shift.

“Let’s go get those milkshakes,” he chirps softly, shifting into reverse so he can back away from the cliffs. The movement of the vehicle brings a gust of muggy air from outside, something easily welcomed by the older Lightfoot. 

Ian remains stoic for a moment, doll eyes trained on his elder as the quester backs into the pavement of secluded highway.

“Does… Does this mean I can come visit you in your room again?” The young sorcerer asks carefully, hands fiddling nervously in his lap. Barley offers him a glance, unable to read his features completely in the dark.

“Yeah, but, only if you need me, okay?” The adventurer says. Ian seems to understand, a faint smile evident on his lips as he nods, moving to scoot closer and resting his head on the ball of his brother’s shoulder as the larger elf shifts into drive.

“Okay,” the smaller man hums, nuzzling closely against the brawny elf beside him. Barley absentmindedly drops a hand from the wheel, allowing it to fall upon Ian’s boney thigh that rests against his own. He gives it a reassuring squeeze, palm finding its place atop the sorcerer's kneecap.

Like that, they drive, the whir of wind ruffling through mirroring cyan locks.

It was gonna be a hell of a summer.

**Author's Note:**

> Book three coming soon <3


End file.
